


crown of daggers.

by j_whirl44



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Dark!Sasha time folks, MINOR Character Death in Chapter 1, Multi, more tags to come once updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:14:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28458870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_whirl44/pseuds/j_whirl44
Summary: she took it back.
Relationships: Grizzop drik Acht Amsterdam & Sasha Racket, Sasha Racket & Zolf Smith
Comments: 20
Kudos: 18





	1. won't accept your silence; beg me for forgiveness.

_ “I hate it here,” Brock growls one night while he and Sasha hid on the shadowed rooftops. Sasha looked at him with a sincere look. _

_ “I know,” she says back, “me too,” she adds. _

_ They’re young. No older than nine or ten, but it’s not like they know their exact ages anyway. No need for them, as Uncle Barret would always say. _

_ “Why don’t we just leave then, Sasha!” he says with a burst of energy that is the opposite of the melancholy rage that just ran through him. _

_ She quiets him quickly and looks out, being sure the guards lurking just below didn’t hear him. _

_ “What are you on about? We can’t do that, Uncle Barret will-” _

_ “Uncle Barret doesn’t care about us, Sasha. You know that,” he squeaks. He’s missing teeth, She doesn’t know how or when they fell out. It’s a toss up of whether it happened naturally or by… other circumstances. The new gapes in his gums makes his slight lisp even stronger. _

_ She huffs and crosses her arms. “Care or not he’ll kill us if he ever finds where we went,” she says. _

_ It’s not an empty threat. It’s a promise he’s whispered to her in a sickly, feign sweet tone on nights she has tried it. He says it as he sits in his big office, in his tall chair, thin fingers clasped together out in front of him on his desk. _

_ She always thinks; there’s a small knife placed in the sleeve of her jacket. All it would take was a well executed strike across the throat, or perhaps along the moth to wipe off the smile he gives. They’re dark thoughts for such a small girl, but it’s how she was forced to think. She’s able to keep it at bay mostly out of spite, but sometimes it seeps further into her skin as she feels the steel of the blade on her wrist. _

_ She shakes her head, back in the present. Brock’s pacing now. She holds out a hand and grabs his wrist. He jumps and tries to jerk away but her grip is stronger. “Brock. We can’t. Not… not right now, anyway,” she tries again. _

_ He glares, puffy cheeks looking even puffier as he lets out a sigh and nods his head. _

_ He sits back down next to her and places a hand over hers, “One day Sasha. You and me. One way or another,” he says. _

_ They pinky promise on it. _

-_-_-_-

She tightens the harness around herself. The leather taut over her black jeans. The wall is steep and looming and she’s not sure how long she’s even been descending. She looks up to Grizzop who’s checking his arrows. He looks down to her and gives a nod with that sharp, toothy grin that makes him look a little insane. She smiles back up and nods the same.

She’d never thought she’d be back here. Other London. The forgotten and abandoned city. None of the flash that Upper London has to offer, it smells even more wretched than she remembers. Fish and death and smoke.  _ ‘Home sweet home,’ _ she thinks. She spits towards the ground, not caring where it falls.

Her feet finally touch the hard stone that shocks her soles as she stretches out. Grizzop lands soon after. They give each other another silent nod. She closes her eyes and takes in a breath, deep and slow. Her hands twitch as she goes through the motions. The familiar steel digging into her the skin of her arms. She smiles.

She turns to Grizzop, “You ready?” she asks.

He gives another wicked smile and runs inside without a word. She snorts as she heads into the shadows.

She hears the guards yell, but it’s cut off by the sounds of arrows piercing skin. It’s more of a whoosh followed by a wet stick. Some unlucky fools getting them straight in the throat. Any loud screaming is cut off before she even reaches her position.

The last body falls. Only the small, quick steps of the goblin are heard as he collects his arrows, along with maybe a few trophies.

She stands with her hands balled into fists at her side and she stares hard at the wooden door in front of her.  
  
It’s blood red. Fitting? Maybe. Obnoxious? Definitely.

It bears her family crest. A symbol she’s always hated. It was gaudy and stupid. Her fist clench tighter.

-_-_-_-

_ “What do you mean you don’t know where he is,” she hisses out. Her eye hurts as she already feels the bruise forming. _

_ “I mean I don’t know where he is, Sasha honestly, don’t be so soft headed now,” Barret says. Same fake tone. The one that makes her blood boil and spine chill simultaneously.  _

_ “That’s bullshit,” she says. _

_ Barret turns on a dime and glares at her, “Language, young lady,” he says. _

_ She bites her tongue. Hard. She might taste blood but she’s not that focused on it. _

_ Barret paces around her for a moment longer before he sits again. In that same chair as always. “I’m sorry, Sasha, I wish I knew where your cousin went off too. The last I heard from him he said he had a good lead on something. I didn’t question it,” he continues to explain. Voice so patronizing, so slow and deliberate. She glares and doesn’t buy it for a second. _

_ He smiles now. A slimy, wide yet tight grin. _

_ “Or perhaps,” He begins, “he just simply left you.” _

_ The blade’s out of her sleeve before she even processes and it glides through the air. She lets out a scream and blinks back tears. _

_ It’s silent. Her blind strike missed. The blade at least three inches to the left. Right at throat level. _

_ He turns toward the offending weapon and then back at her. He laughs, it's cold, joyless, and still so patronizing. _

_ He removes the dagger and twiddles it in his fingers. He carves a small x on the spot on his chair. He hands it back to her, blade first. _

_ “You have to be more careful, Sasha,” he says, “you're dismissed. Don’t bother me again.” _

_ “I won’t miss next time,” she says. He chuckles. _

_ She turns and exits out the blood red doors. _

-_-_-_-

“Sasha?” Grizzop whispers at her. She looks down at him and blinks a couple times. He reaches out a hand and places it gently on her fists.

“I’m good, mate,” she says. It’s only half a lie. He accepts the truthful half with a nod.

“Ready?” he echoes.

She takes a step back and readies herself. One arm raised in front of her face, blade trickling out. Her other arm raises low on her hip.

She nods.

Grizzop opens the door.

There's five guards that scuttle to their ready positions at the sound. Two never have the chance. A third runs to Barret, the fourth swipes at Grizzop but he bounces out the way, striking the useless bloke’s stomach with the piercing whistle of an arrow.

He runs up to the guard trying to shuffle Barret out the room, but he doesn’t make it far as the arrow Grizzop shoots off enters through his skull from behind, exiting through the front. He lands with a thud. The arrow snaps on impact and Grizzop lets out a displeased groan.

Barret stands in the middle of the room. To the untrained eye, he doesn’t look shaken or surprised, but Sasha can see him. His hand is trembling just the slightest. His balance is off. He’s reaching for that damn dagger he always had on his belt.  
  
Grizzop loads an arrow into his bow and aims it at that hand, “wouldn’t try that. Why don’t you just take a seat,” he says.

“Why should I listen to- ah! Fuck!” he seethes out as he’s shot in the shin. He kneels to the ground briefly but he pushes himself to his feet with gritted teeth. He limps to his chair. It’s old and worn, barely hanging on.

He sits. Grizzop all but sprints up to him and swings his way to the back of the chair. He takes his bow and holds Barrents head in it. Pressing down on his throat. He tries hard not to react, but Sasha sees from the corner of the room he’s struggling to swallow already.

Good.

“Your move, boss,” Grizzop yells. Her blood chills a moment as adrenaline fills her. She flexes her hands one more time. Blades prick her palms.

She steps out. The room wasn’t that well lit in the first place, but she tries to catch the most candlelight.

She looks at him. He looks back. Fear. Confusion. Disbelief. All emotions that cross through his eyes as he takes her in.

Grizzop loosens his grip only slightly as he gasps out. “Oh. My wonderful niece. Welcome home,” he spits.

She walks closer.

There’s so much,  _ so much,  _ she wants to say to him. Her throat is dry now though as she inches towards him. Grizzop’s hold tightens again, forcing him to sit straight back in the chair. He winces, nostrils flaring.

She smiles.

“What brings you home,” he continues.

“Stop calling it that,” she says.

He lets out a strained laugh, “Come now. This is where you were raised. Where you learned how to be-”

“I didn’t learn how to be anything here,” she interrupts.

He raises an eyebrow. He gestures around the room, “No? Then where did you learn to have such a deadly little servant,” he spits.  
  
“Don’t call him that,” she seethes. She briefly glances at Grizzop, who is just staring down at Barret, his red eyes somehow glowing even redder.

The only thing standing between them now is that old oak desk. It’s clean, not a paper out of place. It’s always how he liked to operate. Efficient, focused, cold, calculated. All words to describe the man who is Barret Rackett.

She leans down and plants her hands on the edge. His eyes follow that trail. He looks offended that she dare touch it. She lets a small smile grow on her face.

She leans up slightly. Her chest is out and the blood inside her just feels hotter.  _ ‘Almost there, Sasha. Focus,’ _ she tells herself.

She closes her eyes when she opens them again she’s staring straight at him. He holds her gaze but she can tell it’s a struggle.

“I’m here to kill you, Barret,” she says.

He lets out a choked laugh. Grizzop’s bow moves up and down with the lift of his Adam’s Apple.

“Is that so,” he responds, “I’d like to see you try.”

“You’re the one pinned to a chair,” she says.

Again he struggles to laugh but it’s enough to get under her skin as it now itches. She tightens her grip on the handles hidden in her sleeves.

She moves in flash. She pins ones of his hands down into the desk. The other now rests on his throat. It pushes in slightly.

He hisses in pain and goes to reach for her wrist but she’s quicker. She takes that dagger and pins his other hand. His eyes are wide in surprise as he squirms now. Completely trapped.

Just like any good prey.

She reaches into hip and pulls out another dagger. It’s placed back at his throat.

He looks pissed. She soaks it in. Trying to ignore the other look of pride and amusement that also shows in him.

She’s not going to let him gleam any satisfaction from this. That’s not the goal.

She digs in. The blade almost breaks skin. His breath catches and she then pulls back. There’s a red line there now.

“And what’s your goal with this, dear niece, what will you gain from my disposal,” he asks.

“You’ll be dead. That’s good enough for me,” she replies.

“Oh but then who will tell you what happened to your dear old cousin,” he remarks. Grizzop pulls harder, cutting him off at the end. He yelps but holds it in.

That makes Sasha pause. “You said you didn’t know…”

He smirks now, a terrible picture, “and you believed me? Oh it’s a wonder how you’ve survived this long-”

He’s cut off when she takes her dagger and digs into his shoulder. He seethes.

“Shut up,” she says.

He’s panting hard in and out now. He doesn’t respond to her. He’s finally learning how to shut up for once in his life.

She twists the dagger inserted in his shoulder a little more before she pulls it out.

She wipes the blood off on his face. He stiffens. Reality setting in now for the both of them.

“Where is Brock,” she asks calmly, pressing the blade back under Grizzop’s bow.

“There’s so much about this place you don’t know,” he says. His voice is strained and trembling, facade dropping, “There’s people who’ve always wanted me dead. This family dead, you knew that much at least. I don’t know what happened to that boy exactly, but it’s not surprising,” he hesitates. There’s the familiar heat and anger in his eyes now, “he was just so weak after all,”

Those are his last words. Her hand perhaps too quick. In an instant his throat is ripped open by the sharp blade. In a knee jerk reaction he tries to bring his hands up but the daggers that pin them to his desk hinder it. Grizzop grips tight as Barret flops and moves trying to gain any purchase.

Sasha’s as solid as a statue as she watches life leave his eyes, his face, his body.

He stops moving. He’s limp. Grizzop lets up his hold and slowly removes his bow from around the corpse’s neck.

Barret’s body falls forward. Head hitting the deck. Body twisted in an angle that looks unnatural. She removes the daggers from his hands and that makes him sink to the floor.

He lays there motionless. There’s a small pool of blood forming now. She can hear the sounds guards approaching the door.

Her and Grizzop share a look.

She picks up the body and places it in the middle of the room like a lame offering. Grizzop hops and sits on the desk. He brings one leg up as the other dangles and he inspects his weapon.

She makes her way back towards that chair that’s loomed over her for her entire life.

She sits down in it.

The door opens.

The guards inspect the damage. They see Barret. They look at each other.

They kneel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dark sasha dark sasha dark sasha!!!
> 
> i have a tentative chapter outline for this so lets see where it goes!
> 
> Back in AU land baby, hope you enjoyed this first chapter :)
> 
> bye bye barret i won't miss you xoxoxoxoxoxoxo


	2. who is in control?

It seems embarrassing to admit but beyond killing Barret, Sasha didn’t really have a plan. For weeks she was just focused on that one singular thing, and she accomplished it, like she usually does.

She never really thought seriously about running Other London, but there was something about the way the guards found her in that room. Sitting in that gods awful chair. The way they were on their knees, the confusion, but more importantly the  _ fear _ in their eyes, it made her feel… something. Again it could have just been the adrenaline of getting her target still flowing through her veins, but she found the opportunity laid out in front of her.

So she accepted.

It’s been a few weeks now and nothing has really happened. She’s begging to think that all of Uncle Barret’s stories of the people out to get him were, shockingly, lies he spewed to her.

When she walks the streets of Other London she sees it for what it is. It’s filled with people hurting as they scrape for any little thing they can and they’re still left with less than what they need. On those walks she shares looks with Grizzop, who gives her the same conclusion every time. She does have a chance now to fix this. To make sure no other children like her have to fight for an inch.

She paces  _ her _ office and thinks of what to do next.

After a few more days, she receives a visitor. A guard comes in announcing a tressper. He’s surprisingly wet, like someone’s doused him in water. He stands there dripping and she pulls a face. She gives a side eye up to Grizzop, who’s sitting on a perch above her, he shrugs. He has a hand on his bow, the other inches closer to the quiver on his back.

“Send them in,” she orders.

The guard hesitates, “Ma’am we should stay with-”  
  
“I don’t need your protection. I’m fine,” she interrupts.

If she’s honest, she doesn’t trust these guards. They might not have been all that loyal, but they were still followers of Barret and she hasn’t really had the chance to examine them yet. Plus she has Grizzop, someone who would kill dozens of men for Sasha, and she’d do the same for him. They’re fine. Really.

The guard stiffens but nods his head as he slowly turns and exits out the door. There’s a second before she hears heavy footsteps approach.

She looks up to see a dwarf. He’s heavyset, broad shoulders made broader by the armor he wears. Blue like the sea, a heavy coat over it. His blond hair is shaved at the sides, his beard is double braided, the rings at the ends shine with a gold band with emerald gems in the middle. There’s a driftwood dolphin hanging from his neck. He’s in normal pants, one side rolled up to reveal a peg leg. He holds a trident that has to be double his size. It’s sharp and it’s well kept as it shines in the dim light of the room. The hand holding it flashes a ring with a bright sapphire in the shape of a spade on it.

His face is stoic and unreadable. His green eyes are squinting and his mouth is in a hard, straight line.

She stands and slowly makes her way over to the other side of the desk. She rests herself on it, her arms across her chest, her eyebrows arch.

“Did you… try and drown my guard,” she asks. She’s trying to keep her voice neutral but it is twinged with a bit of amusement.

The dwarf focuses on her as he takes in a breath to respond but before he can Grizzop hops down from his perch and stands on the desk. The dwarf looks at him only in passing. There’s a rush of understanding between the two.

“Poseidon lot,” Grizzop mumbles.

The dwarf grunts and gives a stiff nod, “Artemis lot,” he mumbles back in the same tune.

She looks between the two of them. They already both look like feral cats trying to assert their dominance. She rolls her eyes.

“I’m not with Poseidon. I mean- I am but not with those guys,” he further explains.

“You got a name though?” Grizzop snaps.

“Grizzop,” Sasha says tentatively. He gives her a harsh look but it softens after a moment and he lowers his bow ever so slightly. She sees the dwarf relax a bit as well.

He clears his throat and looks back towards Sasha, “Names Zolf. Zolf Smith,” he says.

“Hiya Zolf,” she says. It’s a bit awkward, given she still doesn’t know why he’s here.

It’s silent in the room and she can feel Grizzop’s irritation grow by the second as he taps his foot impatiently. She can’t help but smile a bit at that. Always on the move, never taking a moment to acknowledge silence.

“Right well, I’m here because, uh, look I… Poseidon and I have a bit of a complicated relationship and on top of that the people I work for-”

“And who’s that,” Grizzop interrupts.

Zolf glares at him now, his hand gripping his trident harder. Sasha turns to the goblin and gives him a warning look.

“ _ The people I work for, _ ” Zolf emphasizes instead of explains, “sent me down here because they… heard the news about what happened. Want to make sure whoever is running this place was better than that bastard man,” he finishes.

Sasha straightens up her stance. He’s still looking at her with such an intense stare. There’s a lot going on in his head, she can see. She can even relate a little bit.  
  
“So… what, you’re pretty much acting as a spy?” she asks.

“Of sorts,” he half whispers to himself, “No well look. They sent me to… help you. Make sure you don’t end up,”

“A power hungry arsehole who doesn’t care about anyone but herself,”

Zolf lets out a bit of a laugh and for the first time since showing up, he smiles a little, his eyes a bit brighter, sprinkled with mischief, “Essentially yes,” he answers.

Grizzop steps off the desk now and walks to her side. His face is still twisted in displeasure but he’s no longer actively readying his bow, she takes that small victory.

Zolf holds out his hand, “I can also be extra protection,” he offers. Grizzop does bristle at that, Zolf ignores him, “Look I’ve been fighting thugs for a long time, as long as you stay close to me you’ll be safe,” he says.

It’s sincere in a way she’s not used to. Her breath hitches a bit at it. Not a lot of people have wanted to give her such a kindness as this, not that she actually needed it but the offer is still nice.

She looks down at his still outstretched hand and shakes it. Zolf smiles. Grizzop sulks. She still has no idea about him, but she feels deep in her gut that this by any means won’t be the worst deal she’s ever made.

-_-_-_-

Another few weeks pass and she’s honestly quite bored. Most of her day is just making sure Grizzop and Zolf don’t kill each other. It feels like every other day there’s something she has to break up, whether it’s an argument or something more physical.

“You two need to stop being such proud people,” she mumbles. She’s trying to read this report from some agents somewhere. She still doesn’t know what to do with the intelligence that comes in. It’s all coded and secret and it takes a lot longer to decipher when her two ‘assistants’ are at each other's throats twenty-four seven.

They both mumble their apologies and she gives a noncommittal grunt. There’s a line on this page that she can’t stop reading over and over. Something about a shortage of water somewhere. Along with a frightening amount of metal being stolen. She squints her eyes as if that’ll help her read better. Her brain tries to focus as there’s a knock at the door.

Zolf and Grizzop both snap to attention and she sighs, “You don’t have to do that every time, honestly,” she says.

Neither man responds to that so she rolls her eyes. This time, two guards enter. They both look a little shaken and confused and she stands up at that immediately.

“What is it,” she says.

The guards look at each other as if debating who should be the one to spill the news.

“One of you talk. Now,” Grizzop says, pointing his bow towards them.

“A Meritocratic agent is here, ma’am,” one says.

Zolf growls beside her and Grizzop scoffs. She blinks slowly, “What’s that lot doing coming down here,” she asks.

She knew of the Meritocrats when she lived here all those years ago, of course, but for whatever reason Other London seemed a little less under the thumb of those beasts as Upper London was.

“Not sure, ma’am,” the other guard says. She closes her eyes and sighs. Of course no one would have actually answers, that’d be far too easy.

They both hesitate a moment longer before they back slowly out the room and let in the agent.

Sasha isn’t expecting a halfling to enter the room.

His skin is a mixture of brown and… copper. There’s copper scales that frame his face. Running along his jawline and down his nose. His eyes are golden, an interesting color really. It’s bright but muted.

He’s wearing a purple cape with gold accents. His suit is forest green. His hands are almost typical, except his nails are sharp and long, almost looking like talons, but still more functional than that. He flashes a smile and his teeth look almost as sharp as Grizzop’s. She tilts her head to the side as she inspects him further. He waits patiently. The room feels a bit hotter, and she wonders how hot his body must be running.

He gives a small bow and takes a step forward. Grizzop focuses on him. Zolf hasn’t said or moved much since he entered, but she feels like she can smell the saltwater that is suddenly radiating from him.

She nods her head stiffly back. It’s a tense silence as she waits for him to speak.

“Good evening, Sasha, it-it is Sasha right?” he says.

“It is,” she responds.

He smiles, sharp teeth showing up again, “My name’s Hamid. Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan, I’m here in representation of the Meritocrats,” he introduces himself.

She’s still just as confused as she was as she gives a slow nod, “And why do they need representation down here,” she asks.

Hamid looks a bit confused at that, “Well, word got around about what you did down here. Killing that man,”

“Little late. As always,” Zolf mutters. She looks at him and gives warning.

She also lets out a huff to center herself, “why is everyone coming to me about that. If so many people wanted him dead why didn’t they do it themselves,” she says.

Hamid laughs at that and it catches all three of them off guard, “No one had the confidence or skill to, I suppose,” he says.

The answer doesn’t necessarily shock her, but it does make her heat up a bit. It’s a strange compliment to receive, but it’s still a nice one in a sense. Sasha’s lived a life of learning skills she didn’t want to, but she’s good at them, and to know that others see that. It’s a bit intoxicating.

She stands up a bit straighter, “So what makes you think I need the representation, Mr. al-Tahan,” she says.

Hamid glares a little at the question. It’s gone in a flash though and his face is plastered with forced sincerity, “We’ve been watching Other London for a long time, Sasha,” he begins, “There’s a lot of useful tools that are overlooked down here. My boss simply wants to take a bit of an advantage. Plus, there’s been some growing concern about happenings going on down here.”   
  
Sasha thinks back to the report on her desk, “What do you mean,” she asks.

“I’m sorry i’m not at liberty to discuss that right now. Not when we’re not even working together yet,” he says, she clicks her tongue and scoffs.

“So how’s that work then?”

“It’s simple,” Hamid says, “I can represent you in any political climate you need. Delegating my negotiation services. I can be quite persuasive,” he finishes. He lifts up his hand and in an instant it’s in flames. A small ball engulfs his fingers. It burns hot and bright and Sasha watches as it’s gone just as fast.

Zolf looks like he’s itching beside her. Something is obviously off. She turns to him.

“You alright there, Zolf,” she says.

He gives a grunt and continues to stare at Hamid, “Never been one to trust those Meritocrats. Any of ‘em,” he says in a low tone.

“For once I agree with the lug,” Grizzop jumps in, “Why now? Why try and show all this ‘good faith?’ we’ve been fine.”

Sasha looks back over to Hamid who is trying very hard to convince them he’s not listening, it’s a very thin veil, especially to her.

“Except we haven’t,” she mutters.

She thinks it over. Taking a step away from all three of them and heading a little into the shadows of the room, her comfort space.

Grizzop and Zolf… neither can negotiate without a heavy hand. Hamid seems… seems capable enough for it. He certainly carries himself in that way, his appearance is certainly the perfect balance of intimidating and elegant. His ancestry there for all to see.

She sure as anything can’t be bothered to care about that side of the job. It reminds her too much of that school she was sent. About her time in Upper London. Posh and pretty and coated in cynicism. She’s sick of it.

She turns back around to the three of them. Grizzop and Zolf both give her looks of shuttered curiosity.

She sighs and walks over to Hamid. She stands up tall, towering over the halfling.

She holds out her hand. He smiles and takes it, it’s the hand that was just on fire a moment and it’s still a little hot as it touches her skin.  
  
The air in the rooms turns into  _ something _ . She’s not sure what yet, but as she looks around to the three of them, she supposes maybe it’s the tide changing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little bit of a filler chapter, next chapter will (hopefully if i pull it off lmao) pick everything back!!!
> 
> The gangs (almost) all here ey!
> 
> Thanks for reading <3 Hope you enjoyed!


	3. wrap yourself in petals

She got the letter three days ago and it’s the only thing she’s really been able to think about. She’s read the words over and over again.

_ ‘Sasha- _

_ Heard the news, congrats! I want to see you, catch up for missed time. _

_ Meet me at the spot. _

_ -Brock” _

Surely, it wasn’t him, she thinks at first. It can’t be him. He went missing almost twelve years ago now, if she’s kept any sense of time. If he’s not dead he’d hopefully be out of Other London and far away doing whatever it is he had to. She’s been spinning out since she got this, and as always, Zolf and Grizzop’s are bickering on about it. Talking circles around it like she doesn’t already know how it looks.

“Clearly this is a trap,” Zolf says when he first reads it. The two men are standing on either side of her desk. Grizzop rolls his eyes as he inspects an arrow in his hand three times over.

“I’m glad you’re so sure about that,” he says.

Zolf groans, “Look I don’t- I of course don’t know the whole context-”

“Oh you sure act like it though,” Grizzop interrupts. Zolf goes to rebuttal but Sasha stops him by lifting up a hand.

“Both of you, enough,” she spits out. The two both look at the ground in front of them, “I haven’t… I don’t know what to think about this yet, and neither of you are helping I just…” she trails off.

There’s been a building feeling in her gut for the past few days. She’s made a pros and cons list in her mind a dozen times and it’s only made her more confused. She knows, deep down, that Zolf is probably right and this could be an ambush from anyone who wants to hurt her or her family’s line.

But there is another part of her, a selfish part that’s hard to ignore, that wants to believe it’s actually him. That after all this time, he’s back. Word has spread all over now about Barret's unceremonious departure, thanks to Hamid and his connections. The city has received an influx of visitors these past months, who is to say Brock isn’t alive and one of them?

She shakes her head to try and think, she can feel both men’s eyes on her, causing her skin to be raised in slight irritation. Sasha doesn’t need these two to babysit her. She’s perfectly capable of making her own choices. It’s what she fought so hard for practically all her life.

She opens her eyes slowly and looks straight ahead. She traces that damn family crest on that damn red door. She really should get it replaced, make it one last stiff hand to Barret and his ‘empire.’

She looks down at the note still held in her hand and reads it again a few more times.

It  _ is _ his handwriting. Maybe. She doesn’t think she ever actually saw Brock write anything in the time they knew each other. Barret didn’t actually care enough to educate them properly. Not until he was already gone.

She grips it a little tighter and takes in a shaky breath. The burning in her gut intensifies and she’s a mixture of confused and hurt and sad and she thinks she knows the answer to this problem.

She looks at Zolf who is giving her a calculated look. They share a wordless conversation that has his expression change from concerned to disappointed as he breaks contact and looks over at Grizzop. He gives a heavy sigh before he walks out the door.

She looks to the goblin now who has a bit of an amused look on his own face. She shoots him a small warning.

He hops up and begins to bounce as he counts his arrows, once, twice, three times, “So when are we stepping out?” he asks.

“I need you to stay back, Grizzop,” she says in a low voice.

He swings around and looks at her. His bright red eyes wide and open. She sighs, “I need to do this alone, If it’s… if it’s really him I can’t… can’t risk losing him. Scare him off or whatever,” she explains further.

His mouth hangs open now, “Sasha what? No that’s- you can’t do that, alright, it’s too danger-”

“I can handle myself,” she says. She opens the drawers beside her to inspect some of the daggers she keeps there. She takes one out, the light in the room catches the sharp metal of the blade and it twinkles. She puts it inside her boot.

“I know you can, Sasha, but I mean I can-”

“I gave an order, Grizzop,” she bites back, her tone a little harsher.

He closes his mouth but his eyes don’t get any less wide. In fact now they have a tint of anger in them. A look she’s used to, though it’s not usually directed at her.

She sighs and her shoulders fall with the motion, “Look,” she begins. Voice a lot softer now, that seems to take the edge off his expression, “I need to see this… for myself and by myself. Brock he’s… he was someone I was close to. If he’s still alive and he’s here… I don’t… I just need to see it, Grizzop.”

Now it’s his shoulders that drop and he walks a little closer to her. He reaches out a hand and puts it around her wrist. She smiles down at it for the briefest moment before his contact is already gone.

She steps away and makes her way out the room. She doesn’t get far before she sees Zolf leaning against a pillar, trident strapped onto his back. Arms crossed over his chest as he picks at his fingernails.

She slowly approaches him and watches as he straightens up.

He gives an awkward cough and she doesn’t say anything. Once it’s apparent she won’t he sighs. “So that’s it then,” he says.

She nods, “I'm going alone. I need the three of you to work together when I’m gone,” she explains.

His eyes go about as wide as Grizzop’s did and his mouth forms the deepest frown she’s ever seen on anyone. Her stomach twists but she tries to ignore it.

She sighs, “I’m sorry,” she mumbles. He relaxes and she can see he’s wanting to reach out but doesn’t. She’s a little thankful for it.

“Don’t need to apologize,” he says. He gives a sigh of his own, “I just… we’ll be fine here. I’m just worried-”

“I’ll be fine, Zolf,” she interrupts, “and if all goes well I’ll have… someone with me to help,” she says.

She really wants to believe Brock is alive after all this time, so she’ll continue to push down the part of her saying this is a bad idea. The part saying he’s long dead, or worse. She needs to know, if only to help make the nightmares she still has about him subside.

“Sasha I-” Zolf begins to say but he pulls back again. It’s no use fighting, they both know, so they won’t. “Good luck,” he says. He taps his driftwood dolphin with a finger before he excuses himself further down the hallway. Sasha watches, then follows suit to prepare herself for her journey.

She doesn’t bring much and it’s because she doesn’t need much. She heads out as soon as she can. She doesn’t see Zolf or Grizzop again before then, but Hamid does send her off with an awkward hug and a clawed pat on the back.

It only takes about half a day to reach the spot. An old rooftop right near one of the ‘richer’ buildings in the city. The two of them used to work as scouts for the area, reporting back any weaknesses in security, entrances and exits, who lived there. If they were friend or foe. The building now is out of commission, boarded up and overgrown with shrubs. A familiar sight down here.

She’s not surprised to see Brock not there, but it doesn’t make her stomach drop any less. She inspects the area and makes sure she wasn’t followed. That’s when she spots it.

Another note folded up and just peeking out of the corner of some crates nearby. It’s wrapped with an old ring, one that bears the Racket family crest. She grits her teeth and opens the note slowly.

It’s just a name. Of what she isn’t sure. Maybe some old pub  _ ‘The Infected Dragon.’ _

It has coordinates written to the bottom and she stares at it for a minute while she gets her bearings. Grizzop was the better navigator, but she’s able to hold her own. She looks around the rooftop one more time, silently taking in the lingering memories, before she heads off in the direction she needs to.

Surprisingly, it takes a couple days. Wherever she was led she was led to the darkest outskirts of the city. It made her a little uneasy but she tried as best she could to keep that nagging feeling at bay. The building in front of her looks brand new. It’s in pristine condition, which is odd, considering all the buildings surrounding it are in shambles. She can tell the foundation is sturdy and stable. The wood coated with fresh paint. The sign that hangs above the door tells her she’s in the right place. This is, apparently,  _ The Infected Dragon. _

Before thinking about it for too long, she walks inside. It’s almost too dark to see anything. She blinks a few times while her eyes adjust. There’s...nothing. No tables, no chairs, no hangings on the wall. It’s  _ empty _ and clean, she now notices. There is however a broken down bar towards the back of the room, which given its state seems completely out of place. She walks towards it. She gasps as she sees behind it is an open trap door with stairs leading down. To where she has no clue.

She looks around and comes to the quick conclusion that there’s no other real option. Her gut is screaming at her to not do this, but she’s always been a bit stubborn, so she descends.

She’s greeted with wide, cold tunnels that seem to stretch out for miles. She begins to walk down them. She notes that they seem to be surprisingly… clean? And dry. Almost as if people have been tending to them for a long time. They’re in better shape than some of the back alleys. She tries to not think much of it as she makes her way further into them. She’s on a mission and that is what she has to focus on.

She does now turn her attention to Brock. What she’ll say when they meet. How he’ll even  _ look _ . If he’s even the same person at all. 

She stops in her tracks as she reaches a block in the form of a tall oak double door. She takes a moment to assess it, she checks for traps. Surprisingly, there are none. For now.

She grabs the handle and it feels… normal. She’s honestly not really sure what she expected but she releases the breath she was holding with relief all the same. She wants to laugh at herself, she can feel the paranoia seep through her skin. She tries to shake it off as she steps into the room.

It’s huge. It stretches tall and wide and out of her vision line. It smells like nothing. No dirt, no must, no water. Again it’s all just so clean, maybe even cleaner. She takes a tentative step forward and hears it echo in her ears. It’s dark but she uses it to her advantage.

She walks forward and looks for a sign of anything, really. It’s quiet which might be a good thing, though she can start to hear blood pulsing in her ears after a while.

Finally, she sees light. It’s not from a flame, it’s somehow brighter than that. She hides in the shadows of it and finds herself up against another door. Identical to the last one, thought it’s cracked a little. She can hear the whirring of machines in the distance, but the brightness is preventing her from seeing anything perfectly.

She slides into the room and clings to the wall. She hears voices. Or rather just, one voice talking at various speeds, far off at what she hopes is the other side of the room.

She looks around now and she stops in her tracks. The room is large and layered and full off… brains. Brains in vats hooked up to wires all leading to the center. A big, circular glass orb filled with what she thinks is water but she can’t be sure. It has one, single brain in it. Connected to what could be hundreds of wires. Under the huge orb was a lab table. Where a robotic body lay save for the head.

She brings a hand to her mouth and tries not to scream by biting her lip. She’s not sure what she’s seeing, but for the first time since starting this journey she thinks maybe she should’ve brought some backup.

She moves around using the cover of the brain filled glass tubes. There’s still a voice coming from somewhere in the room, but now she’s having trouble placing it.

She’s conscious of every step she takes until she hears it.

“Oh! Welcome Sasha. So glad you could finally join us,” says the voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back! kinda! i really wanna try and see this through and hopefully we be able to post weekly again!!!
> 
> hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading :D


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